


Hope is a Thing with Fur

by rokubiraijuu



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bottom Chanyeol, Floor Sex, Hybrids, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4542147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rokubiraijuu/pseuds/rokubiraijuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope is a funny thing. One would think he wouldn't have any more after twenty three years. Hybrid!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope is a Thing with Fur

**Author's Note:**

> fill for exopromptmeme on lj. because i thought the idea of cat!chanyeol would be interesting to toy with even though i've always thought of him as a dog, and because the concept was just cute in general & i'm a sucker for hybrids heh. it got a little longer than intended but that's never a problem.

_It’s not fair,_ he thinks to himself, eyes to his reflection in the linoleum floor. He has the same thoughts as them, the same feelings. The only differences are the pair of tall triangles nested in the mess of his hair, tufted with short, dark fur, and the long, thin tail of the same color that hangs morosely between his legs, rounded tip occasionally giving a weak twitch in response to the sounds around him. Yet he gets treated like an unwanted toy, tossed back to the same four walls and typically the same enclosure for the slightest wrongdoings. ( Having spent birth to his current twenty three years in the shelter with only a brief reprieve here and there, Chanyeol knows nothing about orphanages. ) The walk of shame, at this point, has become a routine for him, and he realizes with a sinking feeling that he’s no longer surprised to be seeing this place again. Standing in the doorway on the stupidly happy faded welcome mat, he tries not to overhear his owner listing out his complaints to the employee behind the counter as he scratches away at paperwork.  
  
“ – Not even graceful like a cat. I thought cats were supposed to be, you know, elegant and stuff. No, _he_ walked right into our light fixture, nearly sent it crashing to the ground. Do you know how much money I spent on that chandelier?” Full name. Date of birth. Reason for return of hybrid. _It’s not like I grew any taller from when you adopted me. Maybe you should’ve checked the height of your ceiling first._ He tries to take comfort in the soft scratch of the mat under his feet.  
  
The young man behind the counter doesn’t look like he could be out of college, if that. He’s new, Chanyeol thinks; he wasn’t here the last time, a month ago. Only a month. At least his last owner had kept him for half a year. His heart drops even lower, somewhere around the vicinity of his knees, and he swallows back the frustration in his throat. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” the young man replies, sounding less than impressed but keeping it behind a veil of professionalism. The customer is always right, Chanyeol recites to himself – the shelter’s mantra.  
  
“And he’s _loud,_ too, and so -- _everywhere._ Always wanting attention, always – like a dog! I don’t know why he’s a cat hybrid when he acts just like our dog.” Date of adoption. Date of return. Signature.  
  
Though his owner isn’t looking, Chanyeol is when he glances up for a moment, and notices the expression of barely concealed judgment on the counter boy’s face. “He is a Siamese, sir. They’re known for being more . . . dog-like. Talkative and affectionate.” He’s toeing the line of customer disrespect, but Chanyeol almost appreciates him for it; an attitude like that won’t keep him working in the shelter long, but he doesn’t seem like the type to take shit. He likes the guy already.  
  
“Yeah, well, it’s not what I was looking for.” A slam of the pen and the man is stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. Another ex-owner.  
  
“Can I help you find something closer to what you _are_ looking for, sir?”  
  
“No. I’m going back to the pet store, with _normal_ hybrids.” He doesn’t even spare Chanyeol a glance on his way out. Guess that’s what he gets for just a month.  
  
“Have a good day, sir.”  
  
The worst isn’t the abandonment, though. One way or another, Chanyeol’s gotten used to that. After twenty three years and more owners than he can count, the shelter has become more of a home to him than any studio apartment or bustling white picket fence family. What he’s never been able to stomach are the looks from the rest of the hybrids. Having to stand by the door like this, it feels as though the universe’s whole spotlight is beaming directly on him. He’s center stage with no routine performing to an empty, desolate house. It’s all eyes on Chanyeol, and all eyes are sharp with sympathy – the one bit of this whole process he can’t stand. He’s determined to blink back the burning sensation preluding tears in front of all the other hybrids, and focuses on tracing the way light falls on the tiles.  
  
Soon, the young man working the counter approaches him, takes him gently by the forearm. “Come on – Chanyeol, right? Sorry about this.”  
  
With nothing else to do, he follows where he’s guided. “It’s no big deal,” he replies with a tight shrug, avoiding looking at the other hybrids they pass. “I didn’t like him anyway.”  
  
“Yeah, our records say you’re a lifer. I just started a couple weeks ago; my name’s Kyungsoo. To be honest, that guy was a total asshole. When was your last heat, Chanyeol?”  
  
It’s not a pleasant thing to recall. His owner’s girlfriend had been over that weekend, and neither of them had been impressed with Chanyeol’s incessant caterwauling, as they called it. He couldn’t help it; humans never understood what it was like to be so completely consumed by need that it bordered on physical pain, and none of them had ever tried to do anything about it or help him at all. Ever since operations on hybrids to get rid of heats had been deemed inhumane fifteen years ago, more and more had ended up in the shelters from owners not knowing how to handle them. So far, the go-to treatment is usually to shut them up in a room until the heat breaks, which in Chanyeol’s experience is nearly excruciating. Sometimes, he wonders if it might have been better if they’d just kept the operation. This most recent owner isn’t the only one, either; if asked, Chanyeol could provide a veritable list on the owners who had returned him because his heats were “unmanageable”. He never knew what that meant; other hybrids had them too. “About two weeks ago,” he replies.  
  
“Okay, then you’ve got some time to get settled before your next one. I guess you know the rules about that, right?” He nods – no unprotected sex, no unwanted advances on other hybrids, and absolutely no kittens. The shelter is already packed as it is.  
  
He’s led into – as expected – the same enclosure as before, with a bunch of other cat hybrids, mostly around his age. He recognizes a few, even manages a weak smile to Myungsoo lounging on his customary sofa in the corner. He guesses that if a hybrid as cute and quiet as Myungsoo still hasn’t been adopted yet, he shouldn’t feel so bad, though he recalls that Myungsoo’d been returned, too, about a year ago, from an owner who’d suffered scratches at the hand of the black cat’s notorious temper. “Well, here we are. Don’t worry about it, big guy,” Kyungsoo offers with a pat on his back. “People nowadays suck anyway. It’s probably better here.”  
  
 _Aside from the food._ Scanning the rest of the still-orphaned hybrids, Chanyeol doesn’t realize he’s been looking for someone until he doesn’t spot them anywhere. Usually by this time, there would be a cheerfully peppy voice greeting him, a familiar curl-lipped smile and twinkling eyes. “Uh, hey Kyungsoo? Where’s Jongdae?” For as long as he can remember, the orange tabby mix has been his closest friend in the shelter; he’s never pitied Chanyeol for always getting brought back like the others do, instead brushing it off with laughter and a cheeky “well good, I won’t be alone anymore!” Occasionally Chanyeol has felt sorry for him; at least he had been adopted out a good number of times; Jongdae’s called the shelter home for years on end. Still, he’s rarely seen the tabby’s mood drop for too long. If anything, Jongdae had once told him he prefers it here. “Better than the streets,” he’d said with a playful purr. That had been the last time Chanyeol had been returned and he’d been solemn for a few days. Jongdae had kept him company up late at night with hugs and comfort and jokes to lighten the mood.  
  
Kyungsoo looks up at him in mild surprise, his eyes flickering somewhere to the side as he tries to remember the name. “Oh! Uh, orange tabby cat, talked all the time?” Chanyeol nods, feeling his heart sink even more. Must be the past tense. “He – someone adopted him. Just a week ago. Were you guys friends?” He doesn’t actually need an answer.  
  
It doesn’t take Chanyeol long at all to acclimate again to the life he knows best. Everything works on a predictable schedule: breakfast is at seven-thirty for anyone who’s awake, then they get let outdoors if they want to for a few hours. Back inside for lunch, then they’re free to wander the enclosure or come out to the storefront to see customers. Dinner at six, and then the shelter closes to the public for the day at eight. Even then, volunteers and employees are around until eleven to make sure everything’s getting settled for the night. There is always at least one person, usually two, who work the night shift, and then it all begins again the next morning.  
  
His owner’s food had been great; that’s the only catch. Here, it’s all prepackaged, frozen stuff, which is fine and edible, but comparatively all the flavor has been leeched out of it. Still, he can’t complain. It’s a roof over his head and people who care for him. Things are a little boring sometimes, but he’s got the other hybrids to talk to and play with. Most of the time, Chanyeol avoids going out to the storefront; he knows that staying in the enclosure isn’t a great strategy for getting adopted, but who can blame him if he’s a little jaded by this point? All he can do is watch, trying not to be envious, one day as he’s brought out for a customer who wants a talkative lap cat, gaze trailing to a family across the store who are signing the last papers to pick up their new hybrid. He’s a handsome, sleepy young puppy with adorably folded retriever ears who goes by the name of Jongin – always out in the store playing with the other dogs or napping, he’s been a customer and shelter favorite for the short year he’s been here. Chanyeol stares after him as he leaves the store with a tired blink but a happy smile, tail wagging lazily behind him as he follows his new owners out the door.  
  
The customer ends up not taking him. Too old, they said; they wanted a kitten, a hybrid they can raise, who isn’t already set in their ways. _I can be flexible,_ Chanyeol thinks to himself with a little frown. He’s only twenty-three; he’s not _old_ yet.  
  
The only difference in this new old life is Kyungsoo, but over the years Chanyeol’s seen so many employees come and go that it hardly counts. That, and Jongdae’s absence. Honestly, he misses his friend more than he could have expected. They used to joke about one day getting adopted together by the same family, both knowing it would be nigh impossible. Still, it’d been a nice pipe dream, something to help stave off the impending shadow of an entire life spent in the shelter. It’s not like it was just paranoia; there are plenty of hybrids who never find a home, who live out years and years in the shelter. Everyone feels sorry for them. Eventually, they give up hope of being adopted; no one wants an old hybrid. But this is the first time Chanyeol’s been turned down because of his age and he can’t help but let these thoughts encroach again.  
  
The months pass like this, March to July. Outdoors, the buds of spring give way to wet April rains and then the blossoming heat of summer that crawls over the streets of Seoul like a fog, enveloping people and stores and sidewalks in its embalming sizzle. Once June reaches its height, Chanyeol opts to stay mostly inside. It’s confining, but better than the blazing heat that makes his hair and fur puff out in an uncontrollable frizz.  
  
He’s just drifting off in a mid-afternoon nap, sprawled long-limbs akimbo on the sofa when the distant drift of voices filters into the blurry edges of his consciousness. Grunting at being disturbed, he rolls over onto his side, a frown momentarily twitching upon his childlike features. His tail lashes once, then curls around one of his own legs – a safety habit he’s had since he was a kitten. He waits, half-awake, for the voices to fade away, dimly recognizing one of them as Kyungsoo’s.  
  
“ . . . Told me I should be getting one – a hybrid, you know, to keep me company. He has one, just got him last week, and said it makes a world of difference, so I thought why not?” The other voice, Chanyeol doesn’t find familiar, but he’s not worried. Kyungsoo takes potential customers into the back to see the enclosures all the time, especially if they’re looking for a hybrid but don’t know what they want, or when it’s midday like this and not a whole lot of the hybrids are out and about playing. The shelter doesn’t get a lot of people during these hours, especially on the week days, so he can take the time to step away from the storefront and show them around. Amazingly, the guy – whoever he is – keeps on chattering. “I have the space for one, so I was thinking a cat. I just have my own apartment, so I can’t keep a dog, and I’m not really a bird person. Reptiles kind of freak me out, but cats are nice. But I don’t want one that’s _too_ cat, you know? I grew up with a dog, so I’m used to all the attention and stuff, so maybe something like that.”  
  
If anything, the voices are drawing closer, and Chanyeol decides to give up on sleeping, instead giving an exaggerated yawn to indicate he’s awake and stretching the full length of his frame on the couch, feet poking off the armrest at the end. The entire time, Kyungsoo hasn’t said a word, but now they’re standing at the entrance to the enclosure and Chanyeol’s surprised to see him letting the customer in. For the first time, he gets a good look at him. For how much he keeps talking, he’s unexpectedly small, a sort of boyish, cute looking guy holding himself a little small. He must be nervous, Chanyeol realizes, blinking the sleep from his eyes. _Maybe he’s a talker when he’s nervous._ “Well, I think I know just something that might fit you, then.”  
  
“Really?” Though he’s definitely got to be around Chanyeol’s own age, the guy looks a lot younger from the innocent way he blinks. It’s almost endearing. “I mean, I-I didn’t tell you a whole lot. I kind of want a male cat, if that’s okay. I don’t think I’d know what to do with a girl. And if he could maybe be like, my age-ish? I was thinking of getting a kitten, but I’d be afraid I’d drop him or something, and anyway I thought maybe someone who can be kind of a friend might be better.”  
  
“Look no further,” Kyungsoo cuts him off in that tone of voice Chanyeol’s used to by now that indicates he’s having his ear talked off and doesn’t want to hear any more. “Hey, Chanyeol, come here!”  
  
Rolling rather ungracefully off the sofa, he lopes over to the small store employee and the only-slightly-taller customer, running a hand through his hair in some attempt to look presentable. It’s been a long time since anyone even considered him, and honestly even he is starting to get his hopes up a little from hearing what the guy wants. He _is_ a good fit; everything he’s said matches so far. Hope is a funny thing. One would think he wouldn’t have any more after twenty three years. Yet here he is, looking a little too eager, even managing an expectant little smile as he tries not to bounce on his feet. A dog-like cat hybrid guy who can be a friend. He can do that. In fact, he’s always wanted to do that. Most of the people that get him just want a pet, a companion to feed and have lie on the sunny spot by the window, or at most be company for their kids. He’s never gotten someone who just wants a friend.  
  
Stepping to the side to allow the customer to get a good look, Kyungsoo gestures between the two of them. “This is Chanyeol; he’s a Siamese with a little bit of something else in him, but mostly Siamese. He’s loud, talkative, a little obnoxious, a total lap cat, and twenty three years old.” Chanyeol frowns, glancing at Kyungsoo a little – he’s supposed to be _marketing_ him! “He’s one of our lifers; he was taken in as a kitten and he’s been through a lot of owners, but . . . “  
  
“Hi!” As if he hasn’t heard a word of what Kyungsoo’s been saying, the young man steps forward with a thousand watt smile and eyes that crinkle up a little in his excitement. “Chanyeol, I’m Baekhyun.” He looks him down and up, and Chanyeol is relieved to see not a hint of doubt in his assessment. “He looks perfect.”  
  
Stunned, Chanyeol can’t help himself. “I’m not too tall?” he blurts out, forgetting that hybrids aren’t supposed to talk much when customers are looking them over; it’s considered misbehavior and Kyungsoo shoots him a disapproving look for it. “Or – Or too old, or something? Or not cute enough to be a cat?”  
  
Baekhyun looks startled, and for a second Chanyeol regrets saying anything – shit, has he just ruined his chances of getting adopted? Clamping his mouth shut, he chews on his bottom lip, worry edging into his pleading gaze. But Baekhyun just fishmouths for a couple seconds before stammering out “n-no, I wasn’t – I don’t think so.”  
  
“I’m really sorry, sir,” Kyungsoo sighs, trying to patch up the situation. “Like I said, he’s been through a host of owners. There’s nothing wrong with him; people just aren’t usually – expecting a cat so . . . “ _Boisterous._ “Outspoken.”  
  
“No, no, it’s okay!” To both Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s surprise, Baekhyun isn’t at all deterred. In fact, his smile is back full force. “I like him. I’ll take him.”  
  
Chanyeol feels a little faint. He’ll take him? Really? _It won’t be for long,_ a voice in the back of his head warns him, as it always does. And so far, it’s always proved correct. _He’ll return you within the year when he gets tired of you. Don’t get too comfortable._ But he tries not to let that voice dampen the thrill seizing his heart; he’s getting another chance. And he’ll try to be on his best behavior this time ( like he’s promised himself the last dozen adoptions ) and not ruin it. “Ah, look, he’s so happy!” Baekhyun beams again, looking as if _he’s_ the one getting adopted. “You want to come back with me, Chanyeol?” The guy’s enthusiasm is infectious; he can’t help but nod vigorously. Even Kyungsoo is smiling a little.  
  
“Okay, let’s go back out to the front and, uh, there’s some paperwork you need to do. Are you sure you want to take him today? If you still need a bit of time, we can hold him for up to a week -- ” Chanyeol prays he doesn’t have to wait any longer; too often hybrids get picked like this and then the prospective owner never comes back, usually having found a better option somewhere else.  
  
“Nope, I’ve got everything set up already. I’ve got a bed and food and even a sunny patch right next to the window that he can lounge in if he wants. I want to take him today.” Tail twitching back and forth in delight, Chanyeol follows the smaller human out of the enclosure, waving goodbye to a few others who watch him with some mixture of envy and happiness for him. Someone – he doesn’t turn to see who – tells him “see you back in a few weeks”, but he’s too high on excitement to care.  
  
As Baekhyun’s filling out papers at the front desk, Chanyeol can’t keep himself from openly displaying his gratitude, rubbing his cheek against the human’s soft head of hair and purring nonstop, self-promises of being well-behaved forgotten in favor of natural affection. His tail curls and uncurls around Baekhyun’s leg, trailing possessively against his hip and knee. “He already likes you,” Kyungsoo remarks with some amusement, and Chanyeol keeps going, encouraged by Baekhyun’s giggles. “But Chanyeol likes everyone. I hope you don’t mind him.”  
  
“No, he’s great.” Reaching up, Baekhyun gives him a scratch behind the ears, which has his purrs deepening in pitch and increasing in volume, vibrating through his whole chest. “Oh, he likes that.”  
  
“He likes being pet. Run your fingers through his hair.” Kyungsoo mimes the motion and when Chanyeol feels those long fingers brushing against his scalp, bumping against his ears, a broad smile curls his lips and he rubs his cheek more firmly against his new owner’s face, earning himself a bright little laugh. Baekhyun puts forth the payment on his credit card, writes down a couple recommendations on supplements and toys Chanyeol likes with a promise to get them for him soon, and then Chanyeol can’t believe it but he’s walking out of the store – and with a lot of luck he won’t be seeing this shelter ever again.  
  
Nervousness comes back quickly, though, after the initial high fades. He’s left alone now with his new owner and any number of things can happen. People are sometimes very different, he’s learned, in public versus private, and he can’t help but think that he might prove to be too much for Baekhyun in the long run after all, or that he’ll neglect him, underestimating the amount of attention he needs. All this comes through in the way he curls in on himself a little as they pull to the side of the street in front of Baekhyun’s apartment building and now everything is unfamiliar all over again. Swallowing, he stares up with wide eyes at the towering complex, the pit of his stomach churning uncomfortably. But then there are fingers smoothing back through his hair and he closes his eyes to the sensation of calm that rolls through him and Baekhyun is murmuring “hey Chanyeol, it’s okay. I know it’s up high, but I’m going to take good care of you, okay?” He just nods, not bothering to correct his assumption, unsure if his new owner wants him to talk much or not.  
  
Baekhyun lives in a fairly decent sized studio apartment by himself, larger than Chanyeol expects for someone his age, with a living room area and an attached kitchen by the door. The bedroom is off to the side of the only hallway, boasting a large bed and an attached bathroom. It looks lived-in, homey, and Chanyeol already imagines himself getting comfortable here; it’s a bit small for two people, but just enough for a young man and his cat hybrid, considering Chanyeol doesn’t need a whole lot of space to himself. Walking into the bedroom, Baekhyun shows him the downright enormous bean bag chair that’s going to serve as his bed, apologizing for not having anything bigger. Upon trial, however, Chanyeol finds that he can curl loosely in it very comfortably, and he likes the way he sinks into the material and it folds up around him like a natural barrier, making him feel small and safe.  
  
Settling into his new home takes a little bit of getting used to as both of them try to figure out their way around each other, but Chanyeol doesn’t mind at all. Baekhyun stays up late that first night doing his homework – he’s a graduate student studying music, Chanyeol learns – and the hybrid wants to stay awake with him, telling him thank you as much as he can by sitting behind him while he looks at sheet music on the bed, arms draped over his owner’s shoulders, chin on his head, rubbing into his hair as he purrs some more. To his pleasant surprise, Baekhyun doesn’t mind, even when he’s been there for the better part of an hour. To his suggestion of “shouldn’t you be going to bed, Chanyeol?”, he only redoubles his efforts, tail curling around Baekhyun’s wrist to keep himself rooted there. The laugh and endeared “okay, okay, stay if you want” console what fear had risen up that he was being shooed away. He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until fingers in his hair again have him stirring blearily from slumber and Baekhyun coaxes him to the bean bag chair with gentle words and a guiding hand. He willingly sinks into the rustling fabric, a smile on his face.  
  
Living with Baekhyun only has one downside, and it’s that he gets whatever food he can afford as a student, which isn’t going to be anything gourmet. Still, it’s about the same as the shelter food, and so many other aspects outweigh it that he barely notices. Baekhyun is out at class for most of the day, though he has Mondays off and never has to leave any earlier than nine in the morning, and Chanyeol finds he loves nothing more than waking up with someone still in the house to greet him. Most often, it’s the sound of song coming from the shower that rouses him from sleep, and what irritation he might have felt is quickly washed away by the richness of Baekhyun’s voice. Relaxing in his bean bag chair, waking slowly and waiting for his owner to step out of the bathroom, Chanyeol likes to listen and sometimes even hum along. He hovers around Baekhyun while he’s making breakfast, enjoying watching even when it’s as simple as boiling eggs, and then they’ll eat while Baekhyun tells him about the upcoming day. He talks a lot, Chanyeol finds – it wasn’t just a nervous thing. But he doesn’t mind listening; Baekhyun talks about his friends, his upcoming tests, his worries, his successes. In the afternoon, he naps while Baekhyun’s away, always awake and at the door when he returns in the afternoon or evening from class, living for that delighted smile he wins most days as soon as it swings open and the scratches behind his ears. When Baekhyun feels like cooking dinner, Chanyeol watches then, too, and as the days go on occasionally he helps however he can, but sometimes he brings back food or just microwaves something for both of them, and that’s fine too because it means more time to curl up next to him while he watches TV or plays video games or does homework.  
  
And never once does Baekhyun complain that he’s too tall or takes up too much space on the couch, and once when Chanyeol’s clumsiness sent a plate crashing to the floor, splintering into a thousand shards, he freezes in terror, certain that this would spell the end and he would be standing on the shelter welcome mat the next day. But he only gets a “oh, well I don’t use plates that much anyway. Don’t step on the glass, Chanyeol” before Baekhyun sweeps it up and spends the rest of the night reassuring an anxiety-ridden hybrid that he’s not going to return him to the shelter.  
  
One night, as they’re eating dinner – microwaved White Castle cheeseburgers, this time; Chanyeol thinks they’re pretty all right, though Baekhyun complains about the sogginess – his owner takes the opportunity during a lull in his monologue about his latest grade to look up at his hybrid with a somewhat curious expression. “Hey, I noticed you don’t talk much,” he says suddenly, causing Chanyeol to blink at him, pausing mid-chew. “Do I talk too much, or -- ?” The blush that comes over his cheeks makes him look boyish and cute, and Chanyeol hurries to swallow as he shakes his head.  
  
“No, it’s just, uh, a lot of owners don’t – they don’t like it when I talk a lot,” he explains, hanging his head, looking off to the side. “But I like hearing you tell me stuff.”  
  
“If you want to, I kind of want to hear you talk more,” Baekhyun says with a smile, catching the hybrid once more off guard. “I know you had a lot of owners, but I don’t know why they didn’t keep you.” Chanyeol’s heart is about to sink until he hears that bright laugh again. “Whatever, though. If they’d kept you then I couldn’t adopt you, and I really like having you around. Junmyeon was right; having a hybrid really does make things less lonely. You’re – You’re comfortable too, right? I know I don’t have the biggest place or anything . . . “  
  
Inviting Chanyeol to talk more is like unplugging a water spout. For the remainder of the evening, Baekhyun doesn’t hear the end of it. Neither of them do, in fact. Around one in the morning they get a little too excited exchanging jokes about Baekhyun’s vocal coach and receive a series of firm knocks from below. Falling abruptly silent, they glance down guiltily at the floor before Baekhyun stifles a snort of laughter and Chanyeol has to do the same.  
  
Baekhyun soon hears the story – all twenty three years of it. Chanyeol’s been waiting too long for someone besides Jongdae to tell it to, and Baekhyun already feels different to him than previous owners. If he ends up abandoning him too . . . there’s an uncomfortable tight sensation in his chest at the thought, something stronger than just the disappointment of previous owners leaving him at the shelter doorstep. And he learns a few things about his owner too, like how the reason he has this nice apartment at only twenty-three years is because it used to be his dad’s property, and had been willed to him when he’d died. He’d gone to a music school in the area because then he wouldn’t have to pay for his own place, and it was a lot cheaper as long as he didn’t have to do too many repairs. Once Baekhyun invites Chanyeol to talk more, the apartment is filled nonstop with the sound of speech and laughter, and it’s not long before Baekhyun gets exactly what he’d wanted: a friend.  
  
However, it’s not the end of Chanyeol’s troubles. Neither of them have brought up the topic of his heats yet – he hopes that Baekhyun knows that hybrids have them – and the thought of it lurks in the corners of his mind, festering in moments of anxiety. From how regularly timed they are, Chanyeol knows that his next heat is going to sneak up on him soon; he watches with trepidation as the days turn to weeks, and each morning he wakes, heart pounding at the knowledge that he’s one day closer to it, one day closer to facing the inevitable moment when Baekhyun tells him he can’t handle him anymore. Eventually, he decides he’s going to keep a cap on them around his new owner; he’d never be able to forgive himself if they’re the reason, after all this, that he ends up being dropped. He’s going to keep quiet, he tells himself, and keep to himself, and Baekhyun won’t even know he’s having one.  
  
“Baekhyun . . . !” That promise lasts a total of about two hours. “Baaeek, please – please, help -- ” Lying curled in his bean bag bed, legs tucked up against his chest in some modest attempt to hide the urgency between them, he moans again as a fresh wave of need batters through him, reducing him to rough pants that only hasten when a cool palm presses against his forehead.  
  
“Is this your heat?” the voice above him asks, and Chanyeol’s response is another husky groan as he turns himself onto his stomach in shame, knowing he’s probably ruining everything about this adoption right now but too consumed by lust to stop himself. The stiffness of his cock rubs against the bean bag underneath him and he whimpers, hips jerking forward to rut in search of some friction, gasping little cries at how good it feels. He misses Baekhyun’s contemplative hum and the way his brow furrows as he tries to think of a solution. Chanyeol feels like apologizing, prostrating himself in front of his owner, because he knows that he’s overwhelming like this and too loud, but he can’t get out any words between the sounds he keeps making, half-muffled by the fabric around him.  
  
Instead, he only whines out a pitiful “please – just help me – it hurts, Baekhyun”, swearing to himself that he’ll never do this again so long as Baekhyun does something about it this once. He knows that some owners buy their hybrids toys to ease them through their heat, and all he’s asking for is something like that, something to take the edge off since he can’t actually mate with anyone.  
  
He’s not expecting it, then, when Baekhyun’s answer is a simple, genuine “well, you need a mate, right? I’m okay with filling in for now.”  
  
That’s enough to make even Chanyeol pause, lips parted, gasping, as he turns his head to stare at his owner. Baekhyun apparently realizes what he’s said and a flush of cherry comes over his cheeks as he averts his eyes. “You – You’d be my mate?” He’s never heard of this before, but excitement knots itself in his stomach; not only will he have to go an agonizing four days without any relief anymore, but Baekhyun’s going to help him, and he doesn’t have to use toys, which really only give partial and temporary satisfaction.  
  
“W-Well, you need someone, and – I heard that toys don’t really help, so for the time being I’m -- ” Baekhyun never gets the rest of the words out; Chanyeol knows that he’ll never stop trying to explain himself if he lets him start. He doesn’t remember launching out of the bean bag chair and tackling his owner to the wooden floor, but the sensation of having Baekhyun pinned beneath him, smelling so fresh from the shower he’d just walked out of, warm and soft, is too good to ever forget. He’s pushing at the edge of Baekhyun’s shirt already, hiking it up around his chest to touch smooth skin, pleased to hear the way his owner’s voice breaks in a surprised moan, not unlike the melodiousness of his singing as he cooks or practices for voice lessons. Lost in hazy adrenaline fueled by desire that only grows now that he knows he won’t be pushed away or locked up in a room by himself, Chanyeol rubs himself down against Baekhyun’s thigh, whimpering at the sharp pleasure that cracks up his spine.  
  
Their kisses are a frenzy, Baekhyun heartened to find that hybrids engage in much the same kind of foreplay as humans; their touches frantic and heated, fingertips pressing and leaving invisible burns in their wake against bare skin. Chanyeol’s clothes go first, discarded haphazardly in a crumpled heap a few feet away. Baekhyun’s are nearly torn off in Chanyeol’s haste, and he only groans with impatience when Baekhyun takes too long, he thinks, he unbutton his shirt properly, the hybrid rutting against his leg the whole time in mounting desperation, mouthing at the curve of his neck.  
  
There’s no argument when Chanyeol at last begs him with a husky “please -- ”, the dull need between his legs throbbing. The momentary satisfaction provided by every touch is replaced instantly with an ache in the same spot twice as potent. Breath washing against Chanyeol’s shoulder, Baekhyun rolls them over, doesn’t even notice when his knee bangs against a nearby dresser. Bracing himself over the writhing hybrid, he reaches down to part Chanyeol’s legs, eyes widening for a second when his fingers brush through wetness slicking the insides of his thighs. He glances down, stunned to see the feline’s natural lubrication dripping onto the hardwood of his bedroom floor, taking in for the first time the sight of his arousal. Chanyeol lies only too willing, long legs splayed to either side, the full length of his swollen cock flushed a dark red and glistening with precome that leaks ceaselessly from the flared tip. Baekhyun doesn’t get long to admire the view, however, as Chanyeol’s tail flicks agitatedly against the floor and he rasps out another low plea, cock twitching hard against his stomach.  
  
He doesn’t even want to be prepared, as he hisses when Baekhyun reaches down to try, ears pulling flat against his head in urgency. “Don’t – just fuck me, now, please – please, I need it.” And when Baekhyun protests that it’ll hurt, Chanyeol looks about two seconds away from sobbing as he tries to explain in broken words that hybrids aren’t like humans, and that’s all Baekhyun needs to hear because it’s evident that being coherent is getting more and more difficult for Chanyeol as the seconds pass.  
  
Adjusting above him, Baekhyun positions himself at Chanyeol’s ass just below the base of his tail and eases in, muffling a moan behind gritted teeth, at least until Chanyeol arches in bliss and wraps his arms around Baekhyun’s neck, dragging him down with a shudder as the motion causes him to sink into him further. Then Baekhyun tucks his face against the hybrid’s shoulder, letting the rest of his groan engrave itself into sweat-slicked, flush skin.  
  
He’s not even in halfway until he pulls out again, then thrusts in completely, earning a cry from Chanyeol that resounds back to his ears from the walls. Legs hike up around his waist, tail curling weakly about his thigh in some extra attempt to keep him there, and they soon escalate to a feverish pace, his hybrid’s desperation spurring Baekhyun on. He listens to the deep, guttural moans and shouts that accompany every harsh snap of his hips, basks in just how easily he slides in and out of him, in the way Chanyeol’s body grips him so tight. And not just his cock, either – Chanyeol’s arms stay wrapped about his shoulders, fingertips pressing and digging into his upper back each time he strikes a particular spot inside the feline that makes him jerk beneath him, has a fresh stream of precome joining the pool of it gathering on his abdomen. Chanyeol _clings_ to him as he fucks him, as tight as he can, and Baekhyun knows it’s not just his body he needs to stay.  
  
This being the first heat Chanyeol has ever had help to get through, it’s not long before the pleasure coils within him, climbing higher and higher until he’s gasping through an orgasm that seizes him with its intensity, emptying himself in thick, pulsing ropes that splatter over his stomach and chest. Baekhyun never slows, only giving a snarl at the way Chanyeol clamps around his cock, squeezes him as he comes, and then he’s following after him. His head spins as he fills Chanyeol, thrusts losing rhythm and then finally stilling as he spills, and it doesn’t stop spinning until almost half a minute later and he comes back to reality to the sound of his own panting and Chanyeol’s heavy, deep breaths.  
  
“ . . . Are you – okay – now?” he manages to get out, opening his eyes and pushing himself up on trembling arms to look down at the hybrid, dark hair ruffled against the hardwood and stuck to his forehead with sweat. The dilated pupils and desperate hunger in his eyes have faded, and Chanyeol gives him a lethargic, slow grin, ears giving a tiny twitch as he nods. Heaving a sigh of relief and satisfaction at the residual aftershocks in his nerves, Baekhyun slowly eases himself out and shifts back, huffing at the sight between them. “Oh fuck, we got come everywhere. Whatever, at least I don’t have carpet.” And then it hits him. “Holy shit, we just fucked on the floor.” And the little weary laugh he gives makes Chanyeol want to reach up and pull him back down, so he does.  
  
A purr rumbling in his chest, he rolls them over onto their sides and buries his face in Baekhyun’s collar, feeling his heat ease for the first time in twenty three years. It’ll be back in a few hours, he knows, but for once he feels like he can breathe, and the incoming second wave isn’t something to dread so much now that he has someone who’ll take care of him. Affection and gratitude well up inside him like a spring has just been tapped, and he rubs his cheek lazily against his owner’s chest. “Thanks Baekhyun,” he mumbles. “No one’s ever done that for me before. I was sure you’d kick me out.”  
  
“What do I keep telling you?” comes the tired, amused reply. “I’m not going to send you back to the shelter. You’re my hybrid and I’m keeping you.”  
  
“In that case,” Chanyeol begins again, hugging even tighter, “um, you know how you said you’d fill in for my mate for now?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
Chanyeol finally pulls his face from Baekhyun’s chest and looks up at him, eyes wide with burgeoning hope. “Do you think you can maybe fill in forever?”  
  
The bright smile he gets in return never fails to warm his heart.


End file.
